My Last Night: Cigars
As we adjourned to the back yard, I carried in tow my bootblacking kit, my cigar travel kit, one of my notebooks, some dark chocolate, and my water bottle. My haul was precarious, but I managed to balance my items in a tall tower and land the the structure gently on the ground.
Inside the house, PrincessA retrieved a blanket for me to lie on. I scurried back inside to grab it.
However, when I came back out, Scotty was in the midst of lighting his cigar. I, unfortunately, had forgotten to mention I would be providing cigar service that evening. As the other three settled in, we began.
PrincessA handed me all three of her cigars. One by one, I prepped each for its smoker, removing the cellophane, the band, wetting the end, and cutting the tip. Because of the chill in the air, my lighter was not yet warm enough for use. Scotty allowed me to borrow his rather impressive torch, a large silver lighter about half the size of my hand with four powerful flames.
With everyone puffing away, the group indulged me in my Teacher's Pet fetish. I opened my notebook, found my notes from Edge's cigar play class last June at Fusion, and began.
As I spoke about the many uses of ash, smoke, and the heat of the cherry, PrincessA, Hautewerk, and Belarian listened intently. I knew, though, that Scotty was well versed in this area already. In fact, as I spoke, he gave his own tidbits.
When I finished, Scotty explained he was developing his own cigar play presentation. He went on to explain a few different activities that I did not know about. For what Scotty called smoke shots, he blew a cloud into his whiskey glass and covered the rim. Scotty explained this would alter the flavor of the liquor. He then handed the glass to me to taste. The rest of the group tried this as well.
Scotty spoke about purging the gas built up in the cigar by blowing out. This he used as an opportunity for sensation play. With one's forefinger and thumb creating the space to play in, as well as acting as a safeguard against too much heat, Scotty demonstrated the technique on Belarian, using the back of his neck.
PrincessA then requested to do the same to me. Holding my hair out of the way, and checking to make sure my tie would not be an issue, PrincessA blew the warmth onto the back of my neck. Later on in the evening, she again used this sensation play on my small amount of exposed cleavage.
As I spoke about the many different ways to use ash, smoke, and heat, PrincessA asked to try the various techniques on me.
One of my favorite parts of cigar play is eating ash out of people's hands. PrincessA was the first to ask. After her, I ate ash out of Belarian's hand, too. When I asked Scotty for permission, he at first politely declined. He later granted me the privilege once he finished his section of the cigar teach.
A rather delightful part of cigar play for me is when people blow smoke into my hair. Though I cannot see the effect myself, I explained how others have said it looks like my head is on fire.
PrincessA asked if she could blow smoke into my hair. I, of course, gave my consent. As she did, the group marveled at the effect. Scotty joined in, adding even more to the cloud. Later, all four participated, to my great glee.
As part of the cigars experience, both Scotty and I had brought dark chocolate. I broke open one of his bars and passed pieces out. PrincessA rather liked holding a piece of chocolate with her teeth and having someone break off a chunk. She did this with both Hautewerk and myself. She also enjoyed it when I popped pieces of chocolate into her mouth.
As our get together wore on, everyone became more relaxed, more brave.
Scotty asked me to come close to him. With a cloud in his mouth, Scotty blew all over my shirt, the smoke sticking to the fabric and then rising towards my face. He blew smoke into his leather jacket and pulled my head into the cloud.
PrincessA asked me if she could smear chocolate on my body, blow smoke on it, and then lick it off. I asked her what body part she wanted to use. PrincessA then bemoaned the fact that their backyard was exposed.
She suggested either my neck or my thigh. I, being brave, asked Scotty if I could sit on his lap. With his permission, I rested on Scotty's legs as PrincessA began smearing her chocolate. Meanwhile Scotty gripped my hair, pushing it away from my neck, using his smoke as sensation play while PrincessA prepped her treat. As she licked chocolate off of my thigh, I leaned my body into Scotty's chest. I felt rather spoiled at that moment.
For almost the entirety of our time outside, I worked hard on not being distracted. Scotty wore a pair of lovely mid-calf black boots. Each time he relaxed, stretching his leg out, his boot sat just inches from me.
Once Scotty presented his boot to me with some ash flecks on it, which he pointed out. I politely asked if I might clean his boots. He said yes. On my hands and knees, I kissed away the ash. Later I noticed some inadvertent ash again. Once more he allowed me to kiss his boots.
With my bootblack kit right beside me, I wanted to love his leather. However, it was getting rather chilly and the Sun was going down. We retired back inside the house, the night nowhere near ending.
My Last Night: Preparation
During my first night in Minnesota, with PrincessA's permission, I sent out a general invite for folks to come to her home Wednesday evening, arriving around 5pm-ish, to enjoy some cigars in The Naked House's backyard. It would be a small party, making the most of my last hours in Minnesota.
One of PrincessA's roommates, Hautewerk, as well as another house guest, Belarian, being already in the house and up for some fun, decided to join us. Three people replied to my invitation; we awaited to see who would attend.
Before the festivities were to begin, PrincessA and I took a quick jaunt to a local tobacco shop.
Walking towards the establishment, my nostrils were at once filled with the sweet aroma of cigar smoke. I smiled ear-to-ear before I even walked in the door.
Once inside, I was amazed at their selection: a large humidor with a wide variety of sticks; multiple gorgeous humidors ready to be purchased; smaller travel pelican-case style cigar holders; many different lighters, punches, and combinations of the two. PrincessA and I only scratched the surface of the wonder of this shop.
Stepping into the humidor, PrincessA was unsure what she should purchase. Needing to buy three cigars (one for herself, one for Hautewerk, and one for Belarian), she leaned on me for suggestions. I steered PrincessA to milder options: an Acid Blondie, a Java Latte, and a Casa de Garcia. All three were good for a first smoke and not too expensive.
For myself, I wanted to have a few cigars in case anyone wanted another smoke, and for when I was in California. I purchased an Acid Blondie and an Acid Earthen.
I was also in the hunt for both a travel humidor and a punch. At first I went for a pelican-style case, but then I saw some lovely leather options. I choose a black leather case with a cedar inner holder. All the punches available were either not my style or pushed me over my budget, $50 total. I saved that purchase for another day.
After our tobacco and accessories purchases, PrincessA and I swung by an alcohol shop to pick up some whiskey. She wanted a smooth drink, so, as per the suggestion of the clerk, PrincessA procured a bottle of Jesse James whiskey.
All preparations set, we headed back to the house.
Our first arrival was Scotty. He was a tall man, broad, with a big smile, a leather jacket, AND leather boots. PrincessA and I greeted him at the door. I introduced myself and thanked him for coming to our little shindig.
Settling in, the group got to chatting. Around 5:45pm, PrincessA and I decided it was time to dress up.
"Should I wear my boots?" Why did I even bother asking?
PrincessA wore her boots, as well, zipped up over her jeans, with a black and silver tank top. She grabbed a jacket for outside to guard against the possible cold.
I knew my chosen outfit: little black skirt, gray tank top, white button up collar shirt, black tie. I opted to put my boots on downstairs while enjoying yet more conversation.
Properly adorned, we all headed outside.
As any of you who follow my Twitter feed know, I spent the majority of my yesterday with PrincessA at the Mall of America. Though we would not classify ourselves as "shoppers", we spent about five hours in the mall and came away with nice hauls. My highlights include a new pair of heels, a pair of purple flats (yes, purple), a secondhand kimono and obi, and a pair of Invader Zim booty shorts (I rule!). PrincessA found shoes for a dress and headbands for work. It was a fun day.
But what stood out for me the most was a simple gesture. As we walked, PrincessA held my hand. Casually, she slipped her left hand into my right as we continued our trek through the endless array of stores, shops, and food stops.
When we stopped for ice cream, she checked-in with me, asking if it was okay that she had given the affection. I assured her it was perfectly fine; we were friends, so yes, she could, by all means, hold my hand.
As we walked, I wondered what the people around us thought. What conclusions did they make up in their minds about PrincessA and I from the simple act of holding hands?
And, since I was wondering about everyone else, I turned the lens back on myself. How did I feel about my friendship with PrincessA, about holding her hand?
It was, in fact, refreshing to dwell on this thought exercise. PrincessA and I are friends. Period. No big F. No underlying hope or dream. Just friends. And you know what, I really like that. With her, there is no pressure, no expectation. I can just be and that's perfectly okay.
Maybe that is why I was nervous but not panicked at the idea of visiting her. I knew that, no matter what, PrincessA had no expectations, no hidden desires. It would just be two friends getting to hang out and have random fun.
And I also knew I felt the same. It's been so relaxing to not have to constantly think about what my underlying emotions are regarding this action or that comment. I just am here in Minnesota. I can just be and everything will be alright. My whole world does not rest on saying the right thing or not saying the wrong thing.
At the end of my two week Spring Break, I start therapy. And though I am nervous about it, I am also relieved. I can finally begin talking to a professional about the whirlwind in my head: my anxiety, my insecurities, my bullshit. I can finally start intensely working through my issues, and just maybe I'll come out the other side a stronger more fulfilled person.
My time with PrincessA has been what I had hoped for: relaxed, refreshing, fun, and rejuvenating. And I still have fourteen hours to fill.
I arrived at my airport, about thirty minutes early, at 8am. I texted PrincessA, grabbed my bags, and settled into a seat to crochet and wait for my ride.
After PrincessA picked me up, we headed to breakfast. It felt odd calling our meal breakfast because I'd been up for so long. Then again I hadn't ever actually gone to bed, so no matter what we called the delicious food we ate, it was going to seem odd to me.
We sat in a corner table by the front of the cafe and chatted. PrincessA, on the ride towards food, remarked how it was odd and awesome that the majority of our friendship had been developed through letters. We'd met at Dark Odyssey Fusion last summer, interacting some but not as much as we would have liked. So, instead, we've been writing each other ever since.
Sitting, eating, we now had so much time to talk. We chatted for hours about so many topics: our families, our coming out stories, kink in general, kink in Minnesota, the people I would meet, her rough plans for what would happen in my few days visiting, our fuzzy plans for life, tiny humans (one was sitting at the table next to us, so very cute eating pieces of a broken up blueberry muffin). It was awesome just to get to talk to her.
Checking the time, though, we had to go. Shibari & Sushi awaited.
Once at her home, we heaved my bags into the foyer. Taking my huge black bag to the living room, I opened it to find a small bag of popcorn had exploded inside. Thankfully the popcorn, being neither wet nor sticky, was an amusing teeny tiny annoyance. Rifling through all my toys and toiletries, I created my rope bag.
[Side Note: I find it hilarious that my travel toy bag is SO huge and heavy. I brought almost everything; no humidor, but I have my lighter and cutter. I plan to buy a few sticks while I'm here, as well as when I get to California, though.]
PrincessA grabbed her toy bag, as well as a snack and things for work, and we were off. Driving from one twin city to the other, we arrived at Inretrepida's home. She was the host of Sushi & Shibari, a monthly gathering of Minnesota rope-y folk.
PrincessA introduced me to those in attendance, as well as meeting a few folks herself. Taking a quick tour, we made our way to the downstairs dungeon. The floor was firm foam (+1), there was a spanking bench (+2), a cross with attachment points (+3), school desks (+4), and a hard point (+5).
It was a rather excellent space...except for the cats. There were two of them. I could smell the hazards as soon as I walked down the steps. I, unfortunately, am allergic to cat hair.
Still, I wanted to play. PrincessA and I negotiated a simple scene, opting for floor work. I secured her wrists behind her back, tied a simple chest harness, and frogged legged both of her lower limbs.
I then attacked PrincessA's left thigh, punching relentlessly. We found ourselves rolling on the floor as she desperately tried to get away from my blows. Over and over, I attacked her thigh mercilessly, laughing as she struggled.
Once she called me a Top, which got me surprisingly mad. I told her I was topping her, but I was not 'a Top'. I am a switch. I sat on her and asked if she wanted to call me a Top again as I continued to punch her one thigh.
As we rolled around, her chest harness and unharmed leg's bindings loosened. I pulled off their ropes, but her wrists and other frog leg remained intact, which was all I needed. Her skin grew red from my beating.
Soon, though, we had to stop. She laid back on the floor, breathing. I untied her leg and sat beside her, in case she needed anything.
PrincessA asked to have the discarded rope draped across her body. She breathed and rested. She turned to me and asked if she could kiss my feet. I said she could. She smiled and kissed them, snuggling up next to me. She then sat up and asked for her wrists to be untied. I released them, and she rest her head on my knee. I stroked her hair.
PrincessA stood and scurried upstairs, saying she would return. I sat with my rope and began watching the other scenes happening around me: a delicious looking cake with lots of frosting to lick off; Inretrepida and a beautiful woman in a rope suspension; a Sir and his submissive playing with pain and pleasure.
When PrincessA returned, she sat in my lap. I hugged her from behind and laid my head on her back. We stayed there for a few minutes before she had to go to work.
Gathering her things, PrincessA said her byes, but she would not be separated from us for long. The Sushi portion of Sushi and Shibari was to be at her work, where she would be our server.
With PrincessA away, I relaxed back into the play atmosphere, deciding I wanted to suspend myself. As I prepped my lines, Inretrepida saw what I was to do and asked if I wanted to see her modified gunslinger harness. I happily asked for her to demonstrate it as I tied my chest and hip harnesses, always wanting to learn something new.
When she finished, she decided she too wanted to self suspend, and headed downstairs. I stepped under my point and rigged myself up.
swimmy. My legs configured differently with the ankle rope, able to move and shift more than in my previous self suspensions. I liked the change and decided to keep it for later play.
MattP, whose rig I was playing on, came up and saw my work. He cautioned my moving, seeing as I was close to a wall. I decided he was right, and let myself down. I was already high and happy.
I slowly gathered my things and headed back downstairs, still quite floaty.
However, since I didn't feel close to anyone in attendance, I had no one to ask for hugs or cuddles for aftercare. I came down slower than normal, curled up in a corner by the stairs.
I watched as Inretrepida rigged herself, smiling at her work. As she finished, she sat in a chair close to me and began an electricity scene, receiving the attention of a Violet Wand and a mean mean man.
My inner voyeur was happy to have both Inretrepida's scene, as well as some interesting foot and calf bondage across the room, to watch. Later, when Inretrepida's scene ended, there was talk of possible cigar play at PrincessA's house before I leave for San Francisco (fingers crossed).
As the day rolled into evening, it was soon time to go. Inretrepida let me use her shower so I could wash cat dander off of me. I also used disinfectant wipes on my ropes, just in case.
My things gathered, I sat in the living room chatting with folks. There was an entire Pokemon conversation that I merely smiled and nodded for, the only reference I understood being Picachew. But, thankfully, an Inception conversation began which I was able to follow. (Thank you JEJ.)
With everyone's things gathered, and the house reset, we all hopped into cars and headed for food. We were a party of twenty that slowly filtered into a tiny sushi restaurant. Taking over the front tables, we weren't too loud and kept our kinky talk (mostly) at normal volume levels.
Because half of us pre-ordered, PrincessA and staff had some food ready for us. I tasted ginger beer for the first time (yum), and greatly enjoyed my rather large meal. The company was lovely. There was talk of Kink 1001 next weekend, as well as possible plans for future events (Shibaricon, Rope Camp, etc.).
Soon, though, it grew late. As people now filtered out, I strained to keep my eyes open. PrincessA still had to clean up, so she gave me her house key. I hugged folks bye, each wishing me good travels and lots of fun while I was in Minnesota. MattP gave me a ride to PrincessA's house; I blinked and we were there.
I brought some stuff up to her room. She, too, lived with cats, but they weren't allowed in her space. After fumbling with my things, figuring out something to wear to bed, and finally brushing my teeth, I plugged my phone in to charge, softly played a Jack Johnson album, and passed out around 11pm.
