Although it wasn't the original plan, I wound up making an impulse trip to Power Exchange (a sex club in SF) tonight. PE is an interesting place-- as sex clubs go, the watchers tend to be pretty civilized and keep a polite distance. Most of the playspaces are somehow fenced or chained off, with players inside and watchers outside. It's not a hard rule, but the watchers almost never go past doorways. Anyway, we went by because he'd never seen the place. We were going to make a quick stop so I could show him around.
Somehow I found myself in a sling inside a jail cell, right next to one of the main walkways. The door to the cell was open, I had my high-heeled shoes (OK, slightly high-heeled) on the sling's chain, and my hands held onto the chain over my head. My date had some number of fingers inside of me and had spent... I don't know how long, but it seemed like about six months... seeing how many times he could make me come. I was kind of dazed, but having a grand good time.
At various times, I opened my eyes and realized we had quite the audience gathered outside the cell. Must've been the noises I was making. Go figure. Anyway, at one point I looked up and saw that there was a guy inside the cell with us, looking over my partner's shoulder. I carefully disentangled my left foot from the chain, put it on the guy's chest, and gently but firmly pushed him away from us. He got the message and stepped back outside the cell, at which point I tucked my foot back into the chain and went back to what we were doing.
It may sound creepy, but it was actually pretty cool. It was like having a conversation that went, "Dude, you've crossed a line." "Oh, OK. Sorry." but without a word being spoken, and without breaking the flow of what was happening. Subtle, effective, low-drama.
And now, I'm going to drag my utterly exhausted ass into bed.
|comments: Leave a comment|