Friendship

You remember when I wrote about My Naked Truth? I had originally written it for FetLife, before deciding to post it here as well.
People liked that post, one person in particular not only commented on it, but also messaged me privately. We started chatting for a bit and became friends. Not just FetLife friends, but real friends. There was an instant connection. It happens, not as often as we'd like, very rarely, but so much the sweeter when it does. Feeling that affection, that closeness, when it is all effortless, sharing jokes, talking about emotions freely, flirting, feeling the love, the kindness, the warmth.
Every morning, after starting up my computer, checking his feed, seeing what he has been reading while I was asleep, following his breadcrumb trail to the writing of others. Such a delight. Reading what he has read, liking what he likes, befriending his friends. And then messaging with him, back and forth, for hours on end, until it is his bedtime. The web is an awesome place to connect with people, but different time zones suck. By the time it is late at night in New Orleans, it is not even the end of the afternoon here. But we always have tomorrow.

Saturday night I had my play party where I was suspended. Mm, rope. Sunday morning Tom was ready to hear all about it. While I was describing my experience, he urged me to write it down and to share it with others. "Wow, you described it so well you ought to cut and paste that into a journal piece about that experience." I had already been thinking about that and his enthusiasm made sure I followed through. I shared that with you as well: Floating Peacefully. He could not that day give my story all the attention he thought it deserved, because he was talking with another friend of his who needed his support at the moment. We did chat some more, about everything and anything, and he went to bed.
Monday, Tuesday, I messaged him, no answer. Well, that happens, life gets in the way of chatting with our friends. No big deal. Disappointing, but no big deal.
On Wednesday I got a message from someone I did not know: Subject "Good evening", message "My name is ******, I'm a friend of Tom's (********). I have sent him several messages over the past couple days and he had not responded. I just called his cell to check on him and his neighbor answered. With great sadness, I'm sorry but our Tom has passed away. They think he may have had a heart attack."

I started crying and I have not stopped yet. It has been 2 days, I had only known Tom for 2 weeks when he died, and I can not stop crying. I cry big heavy sobs, tears running down my face, I stop, blow my nose, have some water, keep myself busy, and start to cry again, and again, and again.

I felt sucker punched, kicked in the gut. It hurts so much. I am raw, as if I have been skinned alive. This man, this wonderful, vibrant, loving, caring, sharing, sexy, funny, kind man, so full of life, had died? He is no longer here? I refuse to believe it and I will not. He is not dead. No one really dies until they have been forgotten and I still remember him. The friends I made through him still remember him. We write about him and share our writing. We talk together, cry together, remember him, reminisce, laugh, share, care. We are his legacy.
He has touched our lives, our hearts, our souls. Us meeting him has enriched us. His leaving us hurts, but it is better than to never have known him. He made this world brighter for having stopped there, he has made this world better through his love and care.

Even know he is bringing people closer together, even now he is forging bonds that would never have been forged had he not been here.

I love you Tom, I will always love you, do not ever leave me.

Floating peacefully

Have you ever tried suspension? No? You have never been strung up?
I hadn't, not ever. I'd seen the pictures, of course, looked at them, feeling envious, studied them, the total relaxation of the models, the peace.
Oh, how I wanted that.

So when at the last munch someone offered to suspend me at the next play party, I accepted, or rather, I jumped at the chance. And that play party was last Saturday.

Do you want to know what happened? Whether you want to or not, I'm going to tell you.

I had seen pictures of his riggings before, I knew him, and I trusted him.

Since I had no experience at all with suspension, I put myself completely in his hands. And I was right to do so.

It was so awesome! Better than I could have imagined.

He started by laying the equipment out, checking every piece of rope, while I took off my skirt and top, and touched the rope myself, feeling it, looking at it, smelling it, anticipating.

Then he offered me a lollipop and started on my legs, wrapping the rope around me.

From the first touch of the rope on my skin, the feeling was so sensual I just started to melt (and moan). The tightening, the knotting, finally the suspension, everything slow, deliberate, making me feel safe every step of the way. He explained to me what he would do beforehand, and then got on with it, not talking overly much, just checking every once in a while I was fine, everything was good.

First one leg was lifted, and secured, then the other one, and I was suspended! Tightening here, lifting there, adjusting, until I was horizontal, on my back, floating, drifting.

When I was fully suspended he offered me a blindfold, which I accepted, shutting out the world even further, so it was only him, me and the rig. No dungeon, no spectators, no other play around us.

My hands were now tied behind my back, I was helpless, vulnerable, safe, cared for, free, floating peacefully.

And that was when he got his flogger out, he was sure I wouldn't mind. And indeed I did not. He used it to caress me: belly, upper body, arms. This added to the sensations I was already experiencing, but soon it was not enough, I got more and more excited, I opened my legs, and I started to crave pain. At last I used my words and told him he was allowed to be more forceful, and then he gave me some nice, but still gentle, pain.

It ended in no time at all, after an eternity, when 40 minutes had ticked by. I was lowered, one leg at a time, seeking his support because I found it hard to stand again. He held and steadied me, then untied the ropes from my torso, had me kneel before him, still blindfolded, while the knots became undone, the rope untangled, once again sliding over my skin. Untying me took about as long as getting me up there.

It was one of the best experiences ever, and I now get the relaxation you see on suspension pictures. The feeling is unique and awesome.

I have thanked my rigger in person, of course, and again next morning through a message, because he totally deserves it.
Thank you again, for making this such a wonderful experience for me, thank you for your attention, your patience, your skill, and the lollipop.

I always thought I liked rope, I was wrong: I LOVE IT!