Whatever Lola wants

From an email I got an hour ago, “I can still feel the imprint of your knee on my back. Yum.”

Fever dreams comprise a strange collage of desires, archetypes, memories, fears and wishes; mine began on Friday night at the Center for Sex and Cuture, for the Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong reading. Nervous as usual before getting up in front of people, I flitted around the room and checked out the hot guy as unobtrusively as possible; turns out it was a startlingly handsome Mark Morford, who has an excellent writeup of the reading here. Hornboy and I had thought we’d go to the reading and leave early, as we’d been put on the guest list for Tease-O-Rama (not linking because I don’t like their sponsor) — and it being a will-call only show beyond the $100 tickets, and my friends Miss Satanica, Roky Roulette and Kitten on the Keys were performing, I didn’t want to miss anything. But as it happened, the reading was small, and one of the readers read early and left to go see a movie (insert big rude WTF here), and the reading was so enjoyable, that we had beers and stayed late. Then, in a cab and off to the burlesque show, where I got this uber-sexy short QT video, saw my friends and wound up going home way too late with a very very drunk burlesque dancer in tow, who I decked with blankets and pillows and inserted into my couch. While she slept, Hornboy and I invented a new game in the bedroom; I call it the “ohgodpleaseno game” and it is simple to play. One person tells the other what they hope never, ever happens to them sexually (wink wink), and then the other ‘forces’ them to do it. Hours of fun — literally, we were up past three with beta testing.

Faced with an impossible list of things to do and see on Saturday night, sacrifices had to be made. We were still on the list for more Tease-O-Rama and had a birthday cocktail date, but both were trumped by my weeks-ago commitment to show my Bad Porn clip fest at the exclusive, members-only Kinky Salon event that night; not having a time for the show skewed my plans into a whatever happens, happens mode; actually one of my favorite ways of shimmying through a weekend. So naturally, the secret sex party I’d been invited to was first on the list; then to Kinky Salon for whatever, whenever.

The secret party had a theme: Mad Science. Fortunately, there is an outfit for every occasion. Tight black rubber, platform boots with stripes, black corset, fishnet sleeves, rubber gloves, SRL facemask, welding/cutting goggles. Evil villianess mad scientist.

Now, the players for the rest of the evening, names changed: Hornboy. Alice (a nationally syndicated columnist and famous writer for magazines you all read). Sean (high-profile rights activist; suit-wearing, and major hotbutton news issues type). And later, Eric (major entertainment events, shows you’ve seen, upcoming TV shows too) and his hot buxom girlfriend Kitty (also entertainment). Also later, Ben (journalist whose name has been everywhere lately). How did I meet up with all of these people whose identities I have to hide? Honestly, it just kind of happened.

Hornboy, dressed sexily as an orderly (smocks drive me crazy; it’s my “ER” fetish) and I walked into the playspace for the first party, swathed with white sheets and impromptu lab tables, a station for electrical play and a wide variety of sex machines scattered around the brick-walled, white tile room. I could hear screams and moans, almost like a creepy low-lit hospital. “There’s Violet,” I heard, and looked up to see Alice wrapped up in blue ethernet cable and with an open shirt front, exposing her generous and lovely breasts. Beneath her splayed out on a lab table was a naked and face-down Sean, who I’ll admit I’d never thought I’d see quite like this, a certainly less formal setting than the official events I’m used to seeing him at. But it looked just too good to pass up. And it made me feel menacing; compared to all the white and lab coats and naked flesh, I must have looked like a shiny black insect with big green kohl-lined eyes and glittery blood-red lips. I had little flesh exposed save for my cleavage sticking out the corseted top. I had a small black leather suitcase, full of tools. I advanced on my prey, naked on the table. He looked too excited, too happy. I wanted to wipe the smile off that trusted, know-your-rights face. I was corporate America in a black rubber corset, and I was here to make him pay.

I set down my case and snapped on my gloves. I pulled on my mask, so only my eyes were visible, then walked over to Sean with a blindfold. I wanted my scary image to be the last thing he saw.

I hoped it wasn’t too loud in the room for him to hear my boots; it would be fun to keep him guessing on my whereabouts. But then, Alice and her playmate were busy stroking and prodding the lucky bastard, so he was probably pretty distracted. I opened my toolbox, humorously stocked with real gear from my SRL bag, but also with a few toys; I pulled out a long leather swatter. A little bite, lots of sound. I knew that Sean was a novice of some sort, but I don’t really know him so I figured he may or may not be more of a novice than I thought. The funny thing about all of this was, I’d never done this before. I’ve only gotten spanked at a sex party once before (a year or so ago), and I’ve never, ever done S/M in public. To be honest, this past year and these past couple of months have unhinged me in a spectacular way; reminded so much of my dangerous and harrowing chidlhood and teen years, I have simply decided to live, and to live a lot of life, before I die.

I stalked over to Sean and lifted his blindfold to show him the implement. Then I set to work on the entire back of his body, working around Alice and her lover. I wanted to hit him hard, but I did not. Instead I grabbed him roughly with my hands on his back, ass, shoulders and yanked on his legs; when he moved out of position I’d try to climb on top of whatever part moved too much; he tried to touch my legs and I smacked his hand away with the spanker. I felt a wild ferocity I had trouble keeping in check; the room kept it in check for me as new people streamed in and I had to watch my backswing as people crowded around to watch. I switched tools to a rubber whip; a mean flogger, but I could play nice with it — although there was no reason to let my captive know that. I lifted his blindfold to show him; he was glassy eyed and in another zone. I lightly whipped from top to bottom, and wished the table was strong enough to climb up on him and straddle as I whipped, to crush, to literally walk on him. I opted instead for a few well-placed rubber encased knees on his back.

After a while, I realized that Alice and her sweetie were moving in for a bit more-hands on experimentation; the increase of people conspired with this to make me slowly move away and stop my interaction. I was thristy; Hornboy, who had watched me with a wicked smile throughout, handed me a water. He’s never seen me like that, never seen me do anything like that. I wondered what he thought about it, about us, about me. I dated a man four years ago, who I was with for a couple of years, whose appetite for being tied up quickly grew into a desire to be physically punished to the limits; at first I was excited yet not sure about hurting someone I loved, but I found I really liked it. Unfortunately, it was all he wanted and he pitched childish fits if I ever asked for anything else. I went unsatisfied for years until I ended the relationship. So now I’m very cautious about my roles in relationships. I need absolute balance of power. And not having been genuinely rough with anyone in a long time, there was something that needed to come out.

But it wasn’t to happen there. For one, it was one of those no-alcohol, no chatting in the playspace parties, which isn’t really my speed. I wanted a beer, conversation, flirting and maybe playing, but I at least wanted to see sex around me if I had to switch gears. Sean, now magically dressed in a doctor’s uniform, came over to chat with Hornboy and I, as we planned to get some refreshments and head over to the Salon for my show. With my medical team, we hopped in a cab and headed over to the other party….

Where we walked into unending scenes of decadence and debauchery, filled with people having sex in a wide variety of ways, clad in rubber, leather and various outfits; there was a Rollergirl just like the one from Boogie Nights, rolling around and lifting her pigtails to give blowjobs. There was a fake camera crew, pretending to film people having sex, which encouraged couples (and triples, and more) to perform more avidly for the fake camera and boom. There was a busty woman with short platinum blonde hair wearing nothing but a fur coat, doing whatever an older, silver-haired man wanted her to do. The three of us parked on a couch and popped open beers, as if we were settled in for a night in front of the TV.

roystuart2.jpgAfter a bit, in walked Ben. Gorgeous, young, dangerous media troublemaker. He’d been playing phone tag with me all night as we tried to coordinate meeting up so he could see what my weird life was like on the weekends, and because Hornboy and I both think he’s hot; he’s on our newly developed to-do list. Ben came and sat with us, chatting amiably with a friend he’d brought, and after a bit, not missing a beat while we were all talking, reached over and kissed me, hard, grabbed my hand, and thrust it deep into Hornboy’s crotch. Hornboy got a deep kiss as well, and we all returned to talking while Ben massaged my hand over the top of a happy Hornboy. Eventually the beer had us all jockeying around the couches for bathroom breaks (still amidst all the fucking around us), and I wound up on Ben’s lap, where I fended off his grabby hands, which liked to pinch, push, pull, scratch and squeeze at will, though often a bit too hard. It was like sitting on a cute octopus.

Hornboy was now on the adjacent couch, watching and talking, when Eric and Kitty walked in; Sean looked as tired as he said he was and said his goodbyes. The couch rearranged, with Kitty on my left and Hornboy on my right; when Ben took a break from talking to Eric, I said, “we think you’re really cute.” Ben actually blushed a bit. “Who thinks that?” he asked. I replied, and indicated the couch with a sweep of my hand, “All of us.”

Ben’s face lit up like a Menorah (but not as slow); he said “Cool!” and climbed on top of all of us, laying face-up with his head on the armrest near Hornboy and his butt on Kitty’s lap (Ben is tall and lanky-sexy). We talked and talked about everything except what was happening, all the while Ben’s grabby hands tried to touch our breasts and putting our hands on his crotch, smiling, laughing, putting my hand beneath him to squeeze Hornboy, with the ever-mischevious sparkle in Ben’s eyes bringing us along in the game. Ben would occasionally reach up to touch my face, cup my neck and kiss me deep, long and hard, peppering these brief intermissions with a kiss for Hornboy. Eventually Kitty, naughty hot little Kitty with her incredible rack (yes, she gave me boob-envy, but we’ll get to that in a minute), donned rubber gloves, and pulled out Ben’s sizeable cock. She coated it with lube, and I was suddenly really doing something I’d always wanted to do. I was still wearing gloves, and was wondering what it all felt like for Ben.

Hornboy was unable to participate at the bottom of the pile, and switched to the adjacent couch again to watch the scene unfold. Ben would try to pull on my breast, and I’d smack his hand away, yank his tshirt almost to the point of tearing it, and I’d throttle him with it while I hungrily licked, sucked and almost-bit his nipples. He moaned and arched his back, as Kitty pumped and pulled away at his cock; Ben’s hands came up and he curled forward to whisper into my mouth, “You are so fucking beautiful. Please kiss me.” I grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth open, slid a hand up his neck and squeezed and choked him hard, brushing my lips softly across his, then a lick, and another lick of his lips — and a deep, hard kiss. Rough, soft; hard, tender. His eyes always found mine and I’d be back at his lips for more threats and licks and kisses. Everything was spinning, and his hands kept trying to grab and he was trying to get my nipple in his mouth; Kitty kept stroking and lubing him up, and the rougher I got with Ben, the more he liked it. At one point I seized a grabby-handed wrist of his and pinned it, choking him with my other gloved hand under his jaw, telling him squarely, “Don’t *fuck* with me.” He moaned and smiled, “I’d never fuck with you!” Everyone laughed, setting a playful tone to the tension. I have no idea if anyone was watching our little party at the end of the world, which is what it felt like to me; time had stopped. In between making him suck and lick my fingers while my other hand grabbed and pulled on his chest, and sometimes his beautiful cock, I whispered into Ben’s mouth about how hot he looked and how I wanted to kill him in a fit of passion; he whispered gleefully about all the things he wanted to do with Hornboy and I and how he wanted to watch me give Hornboy a blowjob. I told him no, no he couldn’t do those things or watch us, unless he proved himself, unless he was good enough.

Ben looked up (with what can only be described as child-like awe and greedy passion) to Eric and said how much he’d like to watch Kitty and Eric fuck, or have oral sex. This is a couple that is so in love, I swear flowers spontaneously bloom if they get too close, so a request like Ben’s didn’t need executive approval from Paramount. They could wash socks and it would be sexy. Ben propped himself up to watch as Kitty licked and sucked her boyfriend hands-free, or rather hands on Ben. I took the opportunity to explore her breasts, which brought a succession of moans and gasps from between her full lips. I licked and sucked, pulled and nuzzled, and Ben asked, is there more lube? I realized that we’d forgotten about him for a minute, and sticky gloves don’t feel good… so I grabbed the lube packet and realized with a mournful internal groan that free lube is free for a reason, and this crappy liquid that kept drying out resonated in frustration with the name on the package, a name that brought back memories like the bad last foodservice job you had… it was Good Vibrations’ brand lube. Of course. Internally I rolled my eyes to the heavens. Will I ever be free?

Which was, in fact, how I was feeling beneath the writhing mass of Ben, Eric and Kitty, which was heating up. Kitty moved to put a condom on Ben, and in my memory lane turmoil I’d missed a bit of communication, and when I found myself helping Eric take off Kitty’s panties so he could fuck her while she sucked on Ben I realized that a) I didn’t fit here, and b) I was going to get crushed. So I slid out, joined Hornboy on the couch for a beer and a nice view and pulled off my now-ruined corset (it was a cheap one; I need a new one now). In a white tshirt, I snuggled with Hornboy while we watched the action on the other couch and we chatted about what he thought of all of it; it was just plain fun for both of us, and I felt very lucky, indeed. We sat rapt as the trio changed positions; Eric climbed between Kitty’s thighs and fucked her, holding her close and kissing her passionately as Ben’s condomed cock slid between both of their lips, Ben coming with intensity (in the condom) in the confines of Eric’s mouth, while Kitty licked, and licked, and licked.

After the trio had finished and collapsed, we joked about making tshirts that say “I fucked Ben”; unfortunately the irony is that both Ben and Eric were recognized by people at the party who literally came up to meet them and shake their hands afterward. With a quick “let’s get out of here”, it was over, and even though when I got home the clock read 5am, it still felt like there was no time at all. Just bed, and sleep, and exitement at trying so many new things.

The next day, Castro Street Fair and almost getting arrested for amplified girls/boys gone wild antics…

Pics start here, Tease-O-Rama video here. All photos in this post: Roy Stuart.

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