Microfantasy Monday - Espionage

Thanks as always to Ang, the Sweltering Celt for the inspiration!

Down the corridor she slipped, breath bated, eyes constantly scanning the darkness ahead for any sign of threat. Her only goal now was successful escape, because the new and vital knowledge stored in the depths of her memory would only serve the client if she made it out alive.

Suddenly a noise echoed out into the hallway and she froze, listening for any recurrence. It didn’t occur, but in scouring that area for any sign of movement, she noticed the faint glimmer of flickering light coming from under one of the closed doors. Silently she crept closer, a sinuous umbrage cloaked in shadows, undetected.

In front of her stood the door in question, the golden light glinting from underneath the portal hinting at candlelight within. Cocking an ear to the door, she heard fainter versions of the noise heard before. Was it… moans? Now more curious than cautious, she knelt to press her eye to the keyhole. Her breath hitched as she caught a glimpse of the pair inside.

Suddenly the door rocked inward, its loose latch giving way under the pressure put on it from outside. Her breath flowed out on a curse as her body pitched forward into the room. She rolled to her feet as two heads snapped up, appraising her.

Suddenly one, the male, raised his hand and she tensed, on edge, ready for fight or flight – whichever suited the moment. But he only smiled, and beckoned.

An Update on the Hottie

Okay, so… the Hottie. Remember when I reviewed it and thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread? Well, I’m not so sure about that anymore.

See, lately when I’ve been using it, or having it used on me to be more precise (did I mention we are the proud new owners of a Terra Firma harness? Review to come on that at some point, once I get the chance to use it myself…) it starts out alright but quickly descends into the realm of Pain That I Do Not Like. At first I thought it was the girth. It is 1 ½ inches in diameter, after all. That struck me as odd, though, because I’d never had girth issues before. Not that I’m a size queen or anything, but I’m certainly not shy about having a little oomph to my cocks.

Then the other night as it was being used on me verrrry slowly I realized: it feels great upon insertion, but it’s the pull back that hurts! And it dawned on me. It’s the ridge. That damn ridge between the head and shaft of the cock is catching on my inner crevices and doing its damnedest to pull me inside out. Doesn’t matter how much lube I use; it still catches. That is what’s causing the pain for me!

It’s a bittersweet moment of enlightenment, really. I loved the Hottie and as a cock, aside from this inescapable ridge issue, it really worked for me. It also means I’m still on the quest for The Perfect Cock – but what kind of an issue is that if I get to try out new toys, right?

So if you’re considering the Hottie, keep that in mind. If you have no issues with texture and ridges, the Hottie is still a great cock to try. But if your bits are a bit more sensitive like mine, you might want to look for something a little more streamlined.

HNT: Beating the Heat

It's been so HOT here lately, all I've wanted to do is strip down and sprawl underneath the ceiling fan. So... I did just that.

Happy HNT, all. :)

Portland, Part 3: Saturday, and Goodbye to Portland

It was hard letting Kyle go the next morning. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him, clench my fists around each other and hold him to me, but alas the day called and he had a home to get back to, as did we after a couple of stops at Ikea and Powell’s bookstore. So I very reluctantly let him go. He dressed – sans bra, I should mention, as his nipples were too sore *wicked grin* - and after a bittersweet goodbye that I REALLY didn’t want, left to grab a quick continental breakfast with M and was on his way back to Washington.

M was kind enough to bring me breakfast while I was still in the hotel room working on getting ready, so we finished that, packed up the car and then headed out on our way to two final stops before saying a sad goodbye to Portland.

Ikea, I know, is a place you pretty much either love or hate if you know anything about it, but it’s definitely a place M and I looooove. We took a stroll through the store, had a delicious lunch of Swedish meatballs and spent a little money, then were off to Powell’s, the most amazing bookstore in the history of all the bookstores ever in history.

Seriously. If you are in Portland and do not or have not gone to Powell’s, you have lived an unfulfilled and very dreary life.

Needless to say, more money was spent there as well. M and I in addition to being fans of affordable, quirky Swedish home design are also raging bibliophiles, so we couldn’t walk out of Powell’s emptyhanded.

After that and a rather scenic drive through a part of Portland we hadn’t yet been to (not like I can really tell the parts, well, apart right now anyway), we managed to find the freeway with the help of a gas station attendant and made our not-so-merry way home. After all the fun, excitement and sheer happiness of being in Portland, neither of us wanted to return to our rather boring and unwillingly drama-filled life in southern Oregon. But we had to. And so we did. But not without much reminiscing of our time spent in that wonderful city as well as drawing out plans for eventually moving into the area. The PNW has so much to offer; I feel alienated by my own hand out here on its fringes. My heart is in the heart of the Pacific Northwest, and one day M and I will return – for good.

Portland, Part 2b: Friday, Cont'd

It didn’t take long after we got back to the hotel room before Kyle had his very handsome black pinstriped Dickies shirt unbuttoned, exposing his butch cleavage to the room (and whoever happened to be looking in our third floor window). But really, no one’s clothes stayed on very long because clothes have this nasty tendency to get in the way of striking objects and, well, the feeling of skin on skin contact.

You know Kyle’s Belt of Doom, the one that left the pretty railroad-track marks seen in my last HNT? Didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would. Felt pretty damn good, actually. Also felt really nice in my hands, and smacking against that butchtastic ass!

D’you know how much fun it is to test the limits of someone whose limits are already very stretchy? Well… it’s really, really, really fun.

See, I have this metal lined pleather slapper that feels wicked enough on its own, but the great thing is that the makers included a stretchy rubber wristband attached to a grommet in the handle of the slapper. If you turn the slapper around and grip the paddle end, suddenly you have a very wicked little whip that likes to bite… hard. And bite it did. Kyle’s thighs were VERY nicely striped after that!

At some point though we did all just finally collapse into bed, because it was well into the wee hours of the morning and no amount of playing was going to erase the fact that we’d all already had long days before we even met up. That didn’t last long, though, before M suddenly woke up hyper as all hell, waking the rest of us up with him. Somehow I think this was okay, though, because if we hadn’t been awake, then I wouldn’t have been able to test Kyle’s limits again… this time the limits of his nipples.

May I just say that I seriously thought I was close to ripping his nipples off a couple of times? And yet he just kept growling that amazingly sexy growl of his and begging for more. It was only after a very impressive amount of time that he finally begged me to be nice and, since it was the middle of the night and I was a little fuzzy in my brain, I acquiesced. After that, I’m pretty sure we slept through the rest of the night.

HNT: Better Late Than Never!

Am I right?

And yes, I am a sharps freak. Needle, knife, whatever - if it's sharp, gimme gimme gimme!

Happy Thursday y'all.

Portland, Part 2a: Friday

Thursday. Well, aside from the lonnnng stretch of road and some really good not-quite-Italian food, not much happened. Besides a lot of anticipation for the next day, because Friday was where it was at, folks. Allow me to begin.

Firstly, I slept until eleven freakin’ a.m. on Friday. Shyeah, when was the last time I did THAT? I think it had something to do with the blackout curtains. Gord bless the Marriott for installing those blackout curtains. It nearly made up for the fact that I could only open the room’s window about an inch and a half.

Not long after I was out of the shower (and yes, you’re more than welcome to allow your mind to linger on that image) the now-braindead vet techs returned, after which M and I set out on our Big Zoo Adventure. Aside from it pouring – literally, pouring – on us for a good chunk of the time, the Portland Zoo was really great. So great that between meandering around (and hunkering down out of the rain) and the evening rush hour traffic, we arrived back at the hotel not long before we were to meet… Kyle!

That last half hour fled like a gazelle before the cheetah and before I knew it, Kyle was calling me. We agreed I would meet him down in the lobby just to avoid any potential confusion with the lobby staff. So down I went in the elevator and… there he was, doing that fantastically sexy butch lean against one of the columns in the lobby, looking utterly nonchalant. And funnily enough, after all the excitement I felt at meeting him and the little bit of gastric-butterfly nervousness I felt for a fleeting moment in the elevator, the moment I saw him – and better, the moment we hugged a real, body-to-body, lasting, comfortable hug – I was completely at ease. It is impossible to be anything but around Kyle. (Well, besides horny, etc. But those are different animals!)

Up we went to the hotel room again, but alas, my friends, nothing happened at just that moment. Kyle teased, but apparently he was holding off on the gooooood stuff ‘til later. The three of us chatted a bit then got down to the business of deciding on, then mapping out how to get to a place to eat. We decided on Burrito House, a cute little Mexican establishment where Kyle’s soccer team used to have post-game noshes. The food was great, as was the company… that is until the karaoke started and was dominated by two old folks who wouldn’t know a tune if it smacked them with a spiked paddle. We made a hasty exit at that point, but we weren’t ready to go back to the hotel room so we stopped at a pizzeria/bar near the hotel and got our drink/conversation/flirtation/laughter on. We were all admiring the female bartender who was very cute and smelled AWESOME. Oh, and she kept touching Kyle. Gee I wonder why!

Finally, we decided to go back to the hotel and from there, the fun began…